


and then there was one.

by tazmilyvillage



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen, mentioned animal death & food related abuse, plus whatever emotional abuse you may expect from medusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19199005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazmilyvillage/pseuds/tazmilyvillage
Summary: Ragnarok always won. Crona wasn’t jealous.Okay, maybe they were. Just a little bit though.A brief look into Crona and Ragnarok's childhood.





	and then there was one.

**Author's Note:**

> a little study of What Might Have Been. this thing is a few years old, lightly edited for your entertainment. the recent announcement about the se manga being reissued made me want to dust this off. enjoy

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Two children lay on the floor, one motionless, swaddled in a suffocating darkness that had become second nature to them. Roaches and mice could be heard in the silence creeping about, on the hunt for food, and it was awfully cold. All and all, an average night.

The smaller of the two children trembled, and they outstretched a hand to their companion beside them.

“I’m scared…”

The other child said nothing and turned on his side, away from them.

It only took a couple hours for the two to eventually fall asleep.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Though mornings brought the welcome sun, they also brought the day’s hardships. It seemed they had just closed their eyes when the heavy steel door bolting them in groaned open, Mother standing in its frame. She brought breakfast… or, what the children considered breakfast. A single piece of bread or a slice of fruit, it didn’t matter; they were ravenous, and they ate whatever was presented to them.

After breakfast, it was chore time. Besides general housekeeping, there were several other obstacles they had to overcome in order to please Mother. Often the two were responsible for pest control, drawing out the little critters that scuttled in the shadows and taking care of them for good. Mother always conducted a tally after pest control, counting the piles of rabbit and kitten corpses and rewarding the one with the best score.

Ragnarok always won. Crona wasn’t jealous.

Okay, maybe they were. Just a little bit though.

The pests just had the roundest, saddest eyes is all. It was hard to make clean work of them. It seemed to be second nature to Ragnarok, who treated the work like child’s play. Crona knew it was _supposed_ to be child’s play and tried not to dwell on it often.

Ragnarok also had an advantage; he was a weapon, and he flaunted it. Crona only had their little fists and feet. Mother said that they were going to be partners one day, but they had to do their chores just right before that could happen.

Mother was doting on Ragnarok a lot these days. He outshone Crona in every way during their daily tribulations. She would feed him lots, and sometimes she even patted him on the head. Crona pretended to never notice, but pretending only got them so far. It was clear which of her children was the favorite.

“Lady Medusa says that tomorrow is a big day.”

Crona huddled into a fetal position as the two siblings lay on the floor that night. Ragnarok was unusually chatty, and, despite their slowly-bubbling resentment, Crona was placated by the sound of his voice. The nights frightened them terribly, and their brother hardly ever offered any comfort when they said so. Still, it was hard to want to talk with him; they hadn’t had a decent meal in days, and Ragnarok never thought to share any of the prized treats Mother gave him.

They merely grunted in response.

“I wonder what we’re gonna do. She says I’ve gotten real strong,” Ragnarok boasted, his smile audible in his words. “I wanna fight some more!”

“Maybe those… those g-glasses with black stuff in them…?” Crona mumbled, half to themself.

“Huh? I mean, I guess that could be part of it.” He paused, thinking. “But what do you know, anyway? It’s not like Lady Medusa would tell _you_.”

Crona frowned, further drawing their little body into themself. Ragnarok was absolutely right, but they still wished they weren’t brushed off so quickly. Mother seemed very interested in that black stuff; she paid more attention to whatever it was than she did to them. Wouldn’t it make sense for a big day to involve that?

“Whatever,” Ragnarok said, stretching out on the dirty floor. “I hope it’s cool. Whatever it is, I’m gonna beat you at it!”

Crona didn’t doubt that.

* * *

 

When Crona woke up the next morning, Ragnarok was gone.

The door to their room was left slightly ajar, the dim light from the hallway peeking through. Groggily, they scrambled to their feet as the sound of quiet footsteps signaled Mother’s arrival. She pushed open the door and regarded Crona thoughtfully, those piercing yellow eyes boring into their soul and sending shivers down their spine.

“Good morning, Crona,” she said, her tone silky and pleasant.

They flinched at the sound of their name and stammered a quiet greeting.

“Today is a special day,” Mother continued. “You and Ragnarok have worked very hard. I think it’s time for your reward.”

Their eyes widened at the word ‘reward’ and seemed dumbfounded when Mother outstretched her hand to them. Rarely, if ever, did she say such things to Crona, and a wave of delight washed over them once they realized she was serious. Mother had finally recognized how hard they worked to please her.

Crona eagerly took her hand, and when they smiled at her, she smiled back.

As they walked hand-in-hand, Crona found the courage to ask where Ragnarok was.

“You will see him soon.”

* * *

 

The reward hurt a lot, and it was very scary at first. Crona wanted to cry when Mother brought out the syringe filled with black stuff, but she was so nice to them that they sat perfectly still and blinked back their tears in hopes that she would commend them for their bravery after she administered it. The shot quickly made them feel sick to their stomach, with a headache that throbbed so hard they thought it was going to burst, but Crona refused to cry as Mother ran tests and scribbled things down on a notepad. Her snakes had slithered off her arms and were retrieving other vials and utensils as she needed them to continue poking and prodding and slicing Crona’s skin.

Eventually, the headache and nausea went away, and their drawn blood continuously darkened until it was an inky black, so dark that it was mesmerizing. Crona could have sworn, too, that they heard a voice—just brief catches of it, not enough to recognize words. The voice was quiet and muffled, as though it was in the back of their mind, and Mother did not say anything when asked about it.

The tests became more grueling as the hours passed, and Crona had become noticeably ragged when Mother decided to let them rest. As she opened the door to their room, she gave them a chocolate bar and ruffled their hair.

“You’ve done very well today, Crona.”

Crona cradled the chocolate in their arms and fell asleep in a state of euphoria.

* * *

 

Days passed, and the tests did not stop, but they were getting better at them. Soon, they could tense up, and Mother’s blade would bounce right off their skin, leaving no mark. The voice in the back of their head had been getting louder and more comprehensible lately—most of the time, it seemed to insult them, in a way that seemed strangely familiar.

It was some time before Ragnarok emerged.

During one of their usual blood tests, a horrific pain erupted from their spine, radiating from where Mother initially administered the first shots, so bad that they could not help but scream—and there, suddenly, materialized the brother Crona had not seen in weeks, though in a form neither Crona nor Mother recognized. But Crona knew instantly that it was him, before he even spoke, feeling his anger and confusion, and Mother spent the rest of the session doting on Ragnarok and coaxing him into a weapon form that Crona could wield.

“Now, children, the real tests begin tomorrow.”

When Crona returned to their room that night, they felt strangely empty as they looked around their barren surroundings. Since Ragnarok emerged, his voice was crystal-clear in their head, and he had already learned how to project his voice out of Crona’s body when he wasn’t visible. They felt his prickle of annoyance as he addressed their own sullen state.

“ **What’s wrong with you? Lady Medusa’s been awfully nice to you lately! I heard it. You should be grateful.”**

“Ragnarok…”

Crona laid down in their usual spot on the floor. After a few moments, they turned on their side, facing where their brother also used to lay, and gently put a hand out to the cold air.

“I’m scared…”

Ragnarok did not respond, as they expected, but now that the two shared a body, it was much harder to maintain the tough appearance—he was uneasy, too. The siblings fell into a grim silence, the reality of their situation settling, a quiet dread seeping into the underbelly of their thoughts.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Eventually, they both drifted off to sleep, unsure of what their future held.

**Author's Note:**

> ive always wondered where ragnarok came from and feel like them being siblings wouldn't be too off the mark, especially considering the way he treats crona is like that of a mean (and occasionally well-meaning) older brother. i recall that i was interested in this to be more of a ragnarok character study, but, hey, it's hard to not write about crona. maybe i someday i'll do that even though it is 2019 and i should not be thinking about soul eater


End file.
